


Cheek By Jowl

by inkitsune



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 09:04:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7795687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkitsune/pseuds/inkitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone said that Oikawa's got a pretty head on his shoulders, and that he had total recall of everything he's seen. Oikawa didn't deny it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheek By Jowl

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> This is my first attempt at a fanfic and my great friend Ellie helped me beta this, but since we're still new at this please don't hesitate to point out any mistakes!  
> Thank you for giving this a chance!

Everyone said that Oikawa's got a pretty head on his shoulders, and that he had total recall of everything he's seen. Oikawa didn't deny it.  
  
He remembers that time Iwaizumi made him a messy creation of a daisy crown when they were 6, and how he had felt the biggest smile blossoming on his face at the sight of Iwaizumi's dirtied hands and felt what his 12-year-old cousin would tell him later was 'butterflies in his stomach'. He remembers childish laughter when the flower crown fell apart in Iwaizumi's attempts to crown him, and the urge he felt to hold Iwaizumi's hands when he helped to pick the blossoms from Oikawa's hair.  
(He didn't do it. Iwaizumi felt too bright, too brilliant for him to hold, like the sun shining behind his back, and he was but a tiny shadow before him. He settled on planting a quick kiss on Iwaizumi's cheek instead, laughing at the blush high on Iwaizumi's cheeks, and chose to ignore the mirrored burn on his face.)  
  
He remembers in middle school when Iwaizumi broke up with his first girlfriend, and how all he could feel was the close proximity between them when Iwaizumi sobbed in his arms. He remembers wondering if planting a kiss on the tip of Iwaizumi's nose would be appropriate.  
(He didn't do it. He was the perfect best friend who brought Iwaizumi comfort food and listened to his sorrows, and when he told Iwaizumi that he was way too good for the girl anyway, he meant it. He hoped that he alone would be enough for Iwaizumi, but he didn't dare say anything more.)  
  
He remembers how his chest felt constricted and painful and how his breathing came a little shallow when Iwaizumi stared at him in the eye and told him how he wasn't alone, and that there were six people on a team. Iwaizumi assured him time and again that he didn't need to stand against the world on his own, that even if his own family turned against him he would still be by his side, a constant assurance, _Oikawa 's_ constant assurance- Iwaizumi spoke gruffly and the manner he handled him was borderline barbaric, and Oikawa remembers hating himself that the loudest thought in his mind was the chance of Iwaizumi getting even angrier if he leaned in a little and pressed his lips to his.  
(He didn't do it. He told himself it's just that he didn't want Iwaizumi to headbutt him again and cause some real damage. He'd never had much authentic bravado in him, anyway. It didn't stop him from playing the scenes out in his head at night, though, but all the scenarios he could think of ended badly, so he turned in his bed and willed himself to sleep.)  
  
He remembers the fist bump on their last day of high school, how he wanted to spread open Iwaizumi's fist and fill in the spaces between his fingers with his own, and tell him to stay, or at the very least, allow Oikawa to follow him. He remembers telling himself that seeming desperate to keep him close would not seem so odd then, when there were going to be so much distance between them, no longer spans of space that can be cancelled with opening a window and yelling to the opposite house. He told himself it's his last shot at confessing to his best friend.  
(He didn't do it. He told himself that it's going to be a fruitless effort anyway, settled for Iwaizumi's “you're the partner that I can boast”, and assured himself that friendship last longer than love. It didn't stop the tears from falling, though, nor did it stop his chest from hurting as he watched Iwaizumi's back, ever so strong, grow smaller with the motions of his retreating footsteps.)  
  
He remembers the late night Skype sessions and forgoing sleep for Iwaizumi. He remembers empty concealer bottles on his nightstand and the strong, hot coffee every morning from the run-down cafe near his apartment. He remembers the rare occasions they were able to find time in their tightly-packed schedules to meet up with Hanamaki and Matsukawa, and he remembers imagining what would happen if he were to catch Iwaizumi's hand in his on one of their outings. If he had slot their hands together like all the couples on the street and hold tight while watching the soft snow flutter down from above, that time they went ice-skating in their second year of college.  
(He didn't do it. He told himself he only wanted to hold Iwaizumi's hand to keep him warm, seeing that he didn't have any gloves on, and offered to buy them a round of hot drinks instead. He told himself the heat from the drink is enough to warm Iwaizumi's hands, and that Iwaizumi's hands had always been warm anyway, unlike his own always-cold ones, and settled on laughing at Iwaizumi when he burnt his tongue on the drink.)  
  
He remembers when Iwaizumi told the three of them that he was engaged, and how his feet lost all feeling, as if somebody had smashed a stone slate on them and turned all his bones to dust. The air conditioning in the bakery, merely seconds ago a welcome relief against the scorching heat on the streets, suddenly felt a little too chilly, and he remembers the sudden jolt he gave, which drew the attention of the other two- Iwaizumi looked away to cough and didn't notice his peculiar reaction. Hanamaki and Matsukawa knew what was going on- he told them in high school- and the concern was evident in their eyes even when they started teasing Iwaizumi. He remembers joining in the teasing, and of silent marvel at how everything seemed to go on so normally around him when he felt galaxies and galaxies disintegrating inside of him, and he remembers wondering how Iwaizumi would react if he kissed him right then and there and proclaimed his love for him.  
(He didn't do it. Anybody knew nothing good could ever come from it, he told himself, and took a bite from the croissant that had gone a little stale. He thanked all his lucky stars that he wore glasses that day and ordered a hot drink, and assured himself that the others couldn't see how his eyes had gone as misty as his glasses.)  
  
Everyone said that Oikawa's got a pretty head on his shoulders, and that he has total recall of everything he's seen. Oikawa didn't deny it, but he wished that it wasn't so. He wished he were even prettier, and that he had a rotten brain.  
  
He'd rather not remember anything at all, really, if it meant being able to feel nothing but happiness for his best friend on his wedding day. He sipped at the champagne in his flute without tasting it, and smiled charmingly at another passing guest. The ceremony was over, and he prided himself on not tearing up more than what would seem normal during his best man’s speech.  
  
Iwaizumi must be really happy, Oikawa supposed, if he couldn't see through even the most forced of his smiles. In return, he avoided meeting Iwaizumi's eyes all day. He allowed himself to appreciate Iwaizumi in his well-fitted suit, and to wallow in his presence, but he danced his eyes away when they started to climb up the groom's face.  
  
Oikawa hoped no one noticed him averting his gaze when the couple on the altar said their vows and kissed.  
  
“Hey,” Hanamaki slipped into the seat beside him, his own champagne flute in hand, and ruffled Oikawa's hair lightly. Oikawa regarded him with a slow blink over unfocused eyes.  
  
“This must be hell for you,” Hanamaki started quietly, “God, I can't even imagine myself in your place.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “It must be killing you to be his best man, huh?”  
  
Oikawa didn't reply. In fact, he didn't seem to have heard Hanamaki's words, focusing instead on twirling what's left in his champagne flute with slight twists of his wrist.  
  
The room was still bustling with guests who scurried around, unwilling to leave just yet and trying to find and congratulate the newly-wed couple, champagne flutes in hand. The two watched the guests' high spirits from their seats, and decided that it wasn't for them. Oikawa stared down at the bottom of his flute, mouth twisted between a grimace and a self-deprecating smile. Hanamaki watched him out of the corner of his eye and opened his mouth before stopping himself, repeating the motion thrice before Oikawa decided to spare him the awkwardness.  
  
“Where's Mattsun?” He looked up for another dose of alcohol.  
  
“Toilet, I guess.” Hanamaki replied, “or maybe he's looking for us.” He got up and hesitated. “...Wanna get outside for a walk? Maybe it'll help with your spirits a bit.” Oikawa hated hearing the uncertainty in his voice. Hanamaki shouldn't be miserable on his friend's wedding for Oikawa's sake.  
  
“I'm good.” Oikawa replied, standing up. “Go look for Mattsun? I think I'll be going back to the hotel soon. Come to my room, won't you? I want to get drunk.” He laughed a little, the sound from his throat harsh and bitter, and took another drink from a passing waiter.  
  
“You're already drunk.” Hanamaki scolded, but moved to support him when Oikawa wobbled on his feet. Oikawa waved him away. “I'm alright, I'm alright. Go find your Issei, loverboy.” He even managed to tease Makki, Oikawa congratulated himself. What an accomplishment.  
  
Hanamaki left him, concerned as he was, and Oikawa started on his trek to his room. They said alcohol dulls the mind, but he only felt the hollow pang in his chest ring louder with every drink. Maybe getting drunk wasn't such a good idea after all.  
  
_Who_ _cares._  
  
He took out a bottle of whiskey from the bar and collapsed on the bed, eyes focusing beyond the dark blue ceiling. He felt the first sip of whiskey scorch his throat as it went down.  Oikawa let out a strangled gasp, like the burn of strong liquor had crushed his ribs in the process. He blinked heavily, moisture collecting at the brim of his eyes, and felt like his lungs suddenly collapsed on him.   
  
In his stupor he imagined that he's looking up at the night sky, and Iwaizumi was right beside him. He smelled daisies, and felt the heat radiating from Iwaizumi's skin. The tears started coming faster, and messier. He chugged down the alcohol, and found the courage to reach out and tangle his fingers with Iwaizumi's. Iwaizumi's hand was warm and the skin on the pads of his fingers were rough, just as they should be, and Oikawa inched closer and soaked in his presence.  
  
When Hanamaki and Matsukawa opened the door to Oikawa's room, they found the man curled up into himself with a crushing grip on a near-empty bottle of whiskey. They looked upon the lone figure on the bed for a heavy moment and sighed, turning to switch off the lights before they closed the door behind them softly and retreated back to their adjacent room.  
  
At some point in the night, Oikawa shifted in his slumber, and the corners of his lips turned up slowly as he re-encountered fonder memories from long ago.  
  
“Iwa-chan,” He echoed emptily.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you m(_ _)m


End file.
